Someday We'll be Free
by Nightfancy
Summary: You feel as though you could write a book on everything you know about this man—things no ordinary person should know. AU.


**A/N:** _Apologies in advance for this one. Because seriously. I. have. a problem. I know. I am well-aware. My only hope is that my portrayal was generic enough that it can pass as a one-size-fits-all type of deal. (This will make a lot more sense once you've read it, I promise—so too will all the underscores). Please enjoy. Vicariously would be my greatest hope. ღ (And I know the quote doesn't **really** fit, but it sort of does and it's where I got the title so...yeah. Forgive me. #RelevantQuoteIsRelevant -.-; Also, I have a very vague, tentative idea about continuing this so...I would appreciate it if you let me know what you think)._

_**"But someday this war will end. We'll emerge victorious and bring peace back to the world.  
>...And when that happens, we'll be free to follow our hearts."<strong>  
><em>—Robin, _Fire Emblem Awakening_

"Professor? Might I speak to you for a moment?" The words are out of your mouth before you can call them back, but maybe it's for the best. This will be the third time you've made the trip clear from your dorm to his office, but the only time you've managed to pass through the threshold. The open door this time around may have had something to do with it…

He looks up from his writing and you're surprised as you always are to see him smile. It's not some remarkable gesture as he does seem to smile at just about everyone, but…maybe that unassuming smile will disappear once you make your request known. "Ah, _," he says brightly, unaware of your emotional distress or your impending request. "What brings you here?"

_What brings you here?_ It seems to hang in the air for an eternity and you almost have to remind yourself why you have come. It seemed so simple when you first conceived of the idea, but now you feel not foolish, but certainly unclever. This sort of request requires a sort of finesse which you are well-aware you lack—of course, this would be so much easier if you were only seeking friendship, but you know you want so much more than that…and the only way to explore the possibility is to ask that first question.

"Professor, I was wondering if…well, if you're not too busy, perhaps we…" You are so tongue-tied. Memories, his not yours, flash through your mind. Randall, Emmy, Claire, Luke…you feel as though you could write a book on everything you know about this man—things no ordinary person should know. And if Emmy could not breach his defenses…how can you? Were you kidding yourself all along?

"Are you alright, _?" he asks, concern filling his voice. Damn your uncooperative tongue; the last thing you want to do is worry him. "Perhaps I should make some tea…"

"No, Professor. I mean…I'm fine. This is only supposed to take a second…"

He had stood upon offering to brew a new kettle of tea, but now he sits back down and patiently waits for you to get your crap together. Surely he could guess what you're after now—you can't be the only woman in the world who has ever requested this of him! He's got to have his share of devoted admirers who have come this far—you _can't_ be the only one!

But he offers no guess as to what you're about to ask so you press on, trying not to feel so nervous and wishing you knew how Claire had so effortlessly swept him away. "I know you must get asked this a lot," you begin, looking away, "so I guess I'm sorry for being so predictable and uninventive, but I don't do this very often." You clutch your folders and books to you like they were lifelines; you know he's unattached and probably content in remaining so, but clutching _something_ will help you hold yourself together until you're out of sight, out of mind, out of earshot—and can cry your heart out if need be.

"Professor…" Of course it would be more polite to look his way, but you wish it didn't have to be so hard. You're almost wishing the ground would swallow you up—perhaps unrequited, unspoken love would have been the better course all along. But you didn't come all this way for nothing. You force yourself to look at him. "Professor," you say again, "I've come all this way to ask you…on a date."

The words are out, but his face remains virtually unreadable. His mouth is slightly agape but a quick glance to his cheeks doesn't grant you any clue to his reaction either—there's no blush at all.

After a minute that seems to last forever, he speaks. "I am very flattered _, but…"

Of course there must be a compelling reason—he _is _Professor Layton after all. His voice is _very_ kind now, but you know he's about to decline. You know he is perfectly free to decline any request, but…after so much deliberation on your part, you really thought that he might even say yes by now. Everything would be so much easier if Claire was still alive. It'd be _so _much easier then to just leave him alone…

"—but it would be entirely inappropriate," he says. A part of you does understand…but a much bigger part of you does not.

"Forgive me, Professor," you begin, not knowing where your bravery is coming from, but maybe now that he's said no, you figure you have nothing to lose. "But we are both adults and I hardly believe this is as inappropriate as you fear."

This seems to have shocked him again if his mouth hanging open is of any indication. "Of course I don't want you to jeopardize your career, but I hardly think Delmona would not be in full support of this. If it's morally questionable to you however…then I'm afraid I don't really have a sound argument to that. I've always really respected and appreciated the morals you live by…and the last thing I want is for you to compromise those views now, especially if doing so would make you uncomfortable."

He is silent for several seconds but then pulls his hat over his eyes and says with much regret, "I am…dreadfully sorry, but you are absolutely correct. It _is_ morally questionable to me…as I fear it always will be."

The situation doesn't seem salvageable until something occurs to you. "Professor, I graduate next year—" You break off as he removes his hand from the brim of his hat and meets your eyes without fear. And almost overwhelmed by his unflinching display, you look away once more and quietly continue, "...and upon doing so I will no longer be under your tutelage. If I were to ask again…would your answer reflect differently?"

"..._, I do not find it permissible to twice deny the request of a lady."

You both share a smile. "Thank you, Professor. That's really nice of you if you don't mind me saying so…"

"_, to consider me in such a light at all is far kinder. Now…" his voice seamlessly regains the business-like tone he adopts during his lectures and you marvel a little at his ease of changing pace. "Is there anything else you need to discuss?"

He eyes all the books and things you're carrying. "No Professor," you assure, feeling in far better spirits now. You incline your head toward the stack you're holding. "This was all just a ruse."

He smiles. "Ah, of course."


End file.
